


A Shot of Courferre

by Sunfreckle



Series: Modern Means Less Miserable [9]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, No Angst In This House
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-19
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-17 08:46:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12361992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunfreckle/pseuds/Sunfreckle
Summary: A collection of Courferre centered one-shot ficlets first uploaded to my tumblr. They all fit into my "Modern Means Less Miserable" modern au, but that can be read on their own.These are not being written in narrative chronological order, but will be ordered that way here.





	1. Babysitting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Courferre week 2017, for the prompt "nerd".

Courfeyrac adores his nieces, he really does. They are remarkably hard to handle though. His mother likes to remind him he was exactly like them at their age: a small, high-energy chatterbox with more enthusiasm than self-preservation. (His brothers like to point out that he is still all of those things, but the joke is mostly on them, because it’s their children he’s being compared to.)

At this moment, however, Courfeyrac cannot hear the children in question. This is never a good sign and it’s especially worried since he left them alone with Combeferre for a moment while he ran next door to ask his grandmother if she wanted dinner to be at hers or his mom’s.

“You guys better be-”

“Shhh!”

Courfeyrac shuts his mouth in response to the stern shushing and accusing looks directed at him by all four of his nieces. They are sitting on the rug in front of the couch, where Combeferre is sitting with a book leaning on his knees. He glances up at Courfeyrac just long enough to give him a smile and then he continues reading aloud. The three girls listen with rapt attention. Courfeyrac is scarcely less enthralled (though for different reasons) as his boyfriend reads in a singsong storytelling voice he has never heard him use before:

 _“Then the whole town will gasp, ‘Why this boy never sleeps!_  
_No keeper before ever kept what he keeps._  
 _There’s no telling what that young fellow will do!’_  
 _And then, just to show them, I’ll sail to Katroo_  
 _And bring back an ItKutch a Preep and a Proo,_  
 _A Nerkle, a Nerd and a Seersucker too.”_

He moves the book so the girls can see the pictures of the animals. They all crane their necks and giggle, before sitting back again and listening happily while Combeferre finishes the story. Courfeyrac is astonished. The only time his nieces will stay still long enough to be read to is when they are being put to bed.

 _“And boy!”_  Combeferre read with conviction.

_“When I get him back home to my park,  
The whole world will say, ‘Young McGrew’s made his mark’!”_

He closes the book and smiles at the girls. “Want to hear another one?”

“Yes!” they cheer.

“Well, I only brought one so you’ll have to fetch me something,” Combeferre tells them.

The children leap to their feet. “We’ll get some!” They fly out the door and the sound of them galloping up the stairs reverberates through the house.

Courfeyrac turns towards Combeferre and  _beams_  at him.

“What?” he smiles.

“You brought a book to read to them?” Courfeyrac asks delightedly. “Especially?”

“Yeah?” Combeferre says, running a hand through his short hair. “I always liked Dr Seuss as a kid.”

“You’re adorable,” Courfeyrac gushes. He wraps his arms around Combeferre and gives him a happy squeeze. “And you said you weren’t good with kids,” he teases, letting his arms slide off him as he sits down next to him.

“I said I didn’t  _know_  a lot of kids,” Combeferre contradicts. “My sister is still the youngest in the family.”

“That’s a shame,” Courfeyrac smiles. “Cause you’re  _great_  with kids.”

Combeferre smirks. “Maybe I’m just good with Courfeyrac’s,” he says.

“Maybe,” Courfeyrac grins and he presses a kiss on his cheek. Upstairs the tell-tale sounds of running feet announce the approaching return of his nieces. “Not a word about this to my brothers though,” Courfeyrac advises urgently. “Or you’ll be babysitting every other holiday!”


	2. Birthday Energy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Courferre week 2017, for the prompt "birthday".

Bahorel is used to Courfeyrac’s incredible bursts of energy, but today is a little excessive. To be fair, it  _is_  his birthday, so he has good reason. It’s rather hard to cook with him buzzing around like an excited bumblebee though.

“I’m sorry,” Courfeyrac grins, after spending a considerable time hugging or excitedly darting around Bahorel by turns. “I just wish it was Saturday already!” His birthday is today, but in the interest of convenience his party has to wait until the weekend.

“I don’t mind,” Bahorel grins. “You’re entitled to your birthday energy.”

“I’m also entitled to birthday affection,” Courfeyrac reminds him.

Bahorel turns around and gives him a one-armed hug that still manages to lift Courfeyrac clear off his feet. “Yeah you are,” he chuckles. He puts his friend down again and gives him a smirk. “I’d tell you to take a hotel room with Ferre, put that energy of yours to good use, but that’s not really his thing is it.”

Courfeyrac draws up an eyebrow. “You do know that being demi has nothing to do with sex drive right?”

Bahoral looks mildly insulted. “Of course, dude, I was talking specifics, not generally.”

Courfeyrac grins and he sits down on a kitchen chair. “Oh, so you’re just wrong about Ferre, not demisexuals in general,” he says casually.

Bahorel scoffs, but goes silent when he sees Courfeyrac’s expression. “Wait…what?”

“Nothing,” Courfeyrac hums innocently, looking away with a decided smile curled round his lips.

Bahoral stares at him. “You’re  _kidding_ ,” he insists, turning his back on the kitchen counter. “We’re talking about  _Ferre_.”

“Who’s dating him, you or me?” Courfeyrac says challengingly.

“I…I’m not even sure what you’re implying but-”

“Wouldn’t be very gentlemanly of me to tell, now would it?” Courfeyrac grins. “But I’m implying  _exactly_  what you think I am.”

Bahorel shakes his head. “No,” he says firmly. “You can’t do that Courf. Now you  _have_  to tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Courferac smiles, batting his eyes.

“I saw you trying to make out with him at the Musain and he wouldn’t let you,” Bahorel says accusingly.

Courfeyrac laughs. “That was ages ago.”

“You guys hardly  _kiss_  in public,” Bahorel insists.

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac grins. “We had a talk about that around that time. I think his exact words were: ‘I don’t like an audience’, before pinning me against the wall of my apartment.”

Bahorel makes an odd sound at the back of his throat. His expression is a mix of incredulous delight, pride and a dash of mild horror.

Courfeyrac looks him straight in the eye and lets his grin widen. “You know that protest march when we finally got together?”

“The one where you nearly got your damn nose broken, yeah rings a bell,” Bahorel growls, scowling at the memory.

“The one where Ferre and I got together after literal _years_  of being emotionally mature and self-denying for  _no reason_ ,” Courfeyrac corrects him pointedly.

“Heh, yeah, that’s still hilarious by the way,” Bahorel grins.

“I’m sure it is,” Courfeyrac sniffs, but he takes care to put the grin back on his face before he adds: “Do you remember seeing either of us the following two days?”

Bahorel frowns, raises his eyebrows, blinks and slowly opens his mouth in great indignation.

“Yeah,” Courfeyrac smirks, before he can say anything. “We had better things to do.”

Despite his best efforts Bahorel  _cannot_  wrap his head around this information. Combeferre couldn’t look more vanilla if he  _tried_. And he’s always firmly on Enjolras’ side when the subject of the jokes in the group drift towards the x-rated spectrum. Like, obviously appearances can be deceiving, look at Jehan, but  _Combeferre_?

Courfeyrac snickers at the expression on his face and takes out his phone when it buzzes. His cheeks dimple as he reads the message and he jumps to his feet. “Gotta go! Give a hug to Feuilly and Risa, say I’m sorry that I missed them.”

“What are you smirking about now,” Bahorel demands to know, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Mmm, nothing,” Courfeyrac singsongs, putting his phone back in his pocket. “Just looking forward to dinner with Ferre…and dessert.”

“Courf, I’m going to take your phone if you don’t show me that message,” Bahorel threatens, but Courfeyrac is already darting out the kitchen door. “Bye, Baz!” he chimes, blowing him a kiss. “Enjoy your evening! I know I will!”

Bahorel watches him go, still wavering between bewilderment and disbelief. Then he takes out his own phone and sends a text to Enjolras simply asking: “You home tonight?”

After a while Enjolras answers: “No I’m at R’s. Ferre asked if he could have the place to himself Birthday stuff. Why?”

Before he’s even finished reading the text Bahorel starts laughing. He’s still laughing when Feuilly and Risa arrive and it takes a full five minutes before they can get a coherent answer out of him.


	3. I, Combeferre…

“Courf!”

Courfeyrac pulls out an earbud. “Yeah?” he calls back. That didn’t sound like Marius.

“I got the internship!” Combeferre announces, appearing in the doorway with an expression that is nothing short of triumphant.

“You did!” Courfeyrac cheers. “Congratulations!” He flings his arms around Combeferre’s neck and squeals. “I knew you’d get it!” Combeferre had been talking about this corporate social responsibility collective for ages. To Courfeyrac’s delight Combeferre hugs him back hard enough to lift him off his feet.

“And they even give a compensatory fee,” Combeferre says happily.

Courfeyrac beams at him. “Well I should hope so,” he says. “If they’re doing corporate responsibility.”

“Not a given in my field,” Combeferre grimaces and he lets go of his boyfriend to put his bag down.

“I know,” Courfeyrac nods. In journalism it’s generally not as bad, but he knows the struggle. Suddenly his face lights up. “Hey,” he says following Combeferre through the room. “That means no more assisting with evening lectures at uni, right?”

Combeferre looks guilty. “Well…”

Courfeyrac’s face falls. “ _Ferre_ ,” he says.

“I know,” Combeferre says hastily. “But-”

“You’re always saying how tired you are,” Courfeyrac points out. “And I know you need experience and stuff, but this is ridiculous.”

“I like teaching though,” Combeferre says. “Especially the first years, it’s cool to introduce them to the field. See them get into it.”

“Yes,” Courfeyrac says emphatically. “And when are the impossibly hot professor you will inevitably become, you can do that every day, but you are not seriously considering doing an internship, and classes,  _and_  teaching?”

Combeferre pulls a face that Courfeyrac knows all too well. It’s the face of a man that is carefully forgetting the endless late nights, hasty meals and failed attempts to drink less coffee.

He reaches up, grabs his boyfriend by the collar and drags him down to eye-level. “You are working yourself to death,” he says firmly. “And dammit Ferre, it has taken us this long to start dating and for once I’d like to be able to go to sleep  _and_  wake up with you next to me instead of it always being either or!”

“I know,” Combeferre says, leaning his forehead against Courfeyrac’s. “Me too.”

Courfeyrac tries to frown at him, but he’s not sure Combeferre can even see his eyebrows right now. “And you need more time for your moths,” he says accusingly. “And your silk painting.”

Combeferre straightens up with a sigh and lets his arms rest on Courfeyrac’s shoulders. “You’re right,” he sighs. He winces at a memory and mutters: “Would be nice to have some evenings to myself again.”

“ _Exactly_ ,” Courfeyrac says. “So, say it with me: I, Combeferre, will this year follow my required classes and do my internship  _and absolutely nothing else_.”

Combeferre laughs, but Courfeyrac plants his hands on his hips and says:

“Well?”

“I, Combeferre,” Combeferre says smilingly. “Will this year follow my required classes and do my internship and absolutely nothing else.”

“ _Good_ ,” Courfeyrac says.

“I, Combeferre,” Combeferre repeats, dark eyes twinkling. “Will make sure to draw more moths, paint more silks, and kiss Courfeyrac more.”

“Even better,” Courfeyrac grins. “You can start with the last one immediately.”

Combeferre takes off his glasses and pulls Courfeyrac towards him. Two seconds later they’re sprawled out on the couch and that’s exactly where Marius finds them when he comes home twenty minutes later.

“Oh, hey Ferre. Did you get your internship?” he asks, not even changing colour.

“I did,” Combeferre grins.

“Congratulations!” Marius beams. “You so deserve it.” He moves towards the kitchen, but calls back. “I brought fresh orange juice, you guys want some?”

“Please!” Courfeyrac says, sitting up and smoothing back his hair.

“He’s gotten really used to this, hasn’t he,” Combeferre hums.

“I think I’m corrupting him,” Courfeyrac says happily.

“I think you’re a good influence,” Combeferre mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of his head. “On everyone.”


	4. Meeting the Family

Meeting Courfeyrac’s family is every bit as overwhelming as Combeferre had thought it would be. He had been well prepared, however, by both Enjolras and Courfeyrac himself, so he is getting through it all relatively well. Besides, Courfeyrac is so happy to be home and so proud to show him off that Combeferre would have put up with a lot worse. At any rate, the overwhelming thing about the de Courfeyrac family is how exuberantly friendly they all are and that’s hardly a thing Combeferre feels entitled to complain about.

Still, it  _is_  overwhelming, and Combeferre is kind of glad when Courfeyrac pulls him out through the kitchen doors and into the dusky garden after dinner.

“Well done for surviving dinner,” Courfeyrac grins, entwining his fingers with Combeferre’s and pulling him towards a garden bench flanked by well-tended roses.

“I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much,” Combeferre says, smiling incredulously. He’s beginning to understand where Courfeyrac learned to eat as much as he sometimes does though. For someone his size he can eat alarming quantities when he feels like it.

“Mmm,” Courfeyrac sighs happily. “Tastes of home.”

Combeferre sits down on the bench and Courfeyrac looks up at the sky where a few stars are visible in the partially cloudy sky.

“Which one is that?” he asks.

“You know I don’t know that,” Combeferre smiles.

“Shh,” Courfeyrac says. “Yes you do. Tell me what constellation it’s from.”

Combeferre knows the sort of thing Courfeyrac likes to hear, but he’s sparing with indulging him. When it comes to astronomical inaccuracies at least, he’s embarrassingly prone to letting Courf have his way in most other matters. “I think it’s from the sign of the hidden lovers,” he answers.

“Really?” Courfeyrac says, his smile just visible in the near dark. “Is that a good sign to kiss under?”

He leans forward, standing in front of Combeferre close enough for his legs to bump into his knees and Combeferre raises his face to Courfeyrac’s. He can feel Courfeyrac’s curls tickle against his forehead for a moment before their lips meet, softly at first and then more eagerly when Courfeyrac leans into the kiss. Combeferre has just raised a hand to grab Courfeyrac by the front of his shirt when there’s a burst of warm light from the kitchen door opening.

“They’re here, Mamá!” one of Courfeyrac’s brothers calls out deliberately. “Just making out in the garden, that’s all.”

Combeferre froze as soon as the light reached his eyes, but Courfeyrac pulls away to yell something at his brother in severely vexed Spanish. The door closes again to the sound of loud laughter and Courfeyrac lets out a huff.

“Oh my god,” Combeferre groans and he leans forward, hiding his face against Courfeyrac’s stomach.

“Are you  _blushing_?” Courfeyrac laughs, his arms wrapping around Combeferre and one hand feeling the heat radiating from his neck.

Combeferre makes a muffled noise of embarrassment. This is terrible.

“Shall we go back inside then?” Courfeyrac says, swallowing a giggle.

“No?” Combeferre mutters. Courfeyrac clearly doesn’t care, but all he can think of is his sister walking in on them like that and he just can’t.

“Alright,” Courfeyrac says amusedly, stroking through Combeferre’s short hair. “But just so you know, as long as we’re out here they’re definitely going to think we’re still snogging.”

Whatever Combeferre has to say to that is lost in the sound of Courfeyrac’s laughter, which is probably for the best.


End file.
